to keep the light aflame
by Irrwisch
Summary: There's a light in his eyes that wasn't there before. It's a good thing, but you didn't put it there and it scares you. He's starting to grow, and it has nothing to do with you. Still, you're gonna move heaven and hell to make sure to keep that there, even if it means buying a goddamn bee farm.


Your bed is left behind, and you are out your door, down the corridor and in another room before you even realise it was you who had been screaming. You look up, towards the ceiling and you let out a breath you weren't holding. There's nothing here. There hasn't been anything here for a few months. And still, you just can't forget. How could anyone?

You burned the rope, and you broke the chair. It took Sam to stop you from breaking every single chair you own. You step inside the room and survey the bed. There's some dust on it, now. It goes so fast, like nobody's ever been living here. And maybe there hadn't been. That's stupid, you know, but sometimes it feels that way. You cleared out this room after Castiel left, but there hadn't really been anything to clean out – just clothes and shoes, but no personal artefacts. You've found no photos, or trinkets of any kind. Everyone has a keepsake, right? Something they take with them no matter where they go? And yet, it seems like Castiel had nothing like it. You found some sort of pebble, but you thought it was rubbish, and you threw it away.

You don't think you can go back to sleep now. You have to visit him today. Well, you don't _have to_, but... you can't just leave him there, can you? You'd be a monster. Each time you go there, he asks if you'll come back. He's guilt-tripping you; and you fall for it, bait and hook and all. And yet, you know if you wouldn't go back, Castiel would simply nod and understand. You stand in your kitchen, starting to brew yourself a pot of coffee.

"_I wanted to be good."_

God damn him. How dare he say that, when he's never been anything but? He doesn't get to think he's not good. Who messed up and made him think he isn't good? You want to hold them responsible and show them what they've done. They crippled him into the tiny man he shouldn't be and you're not qualified to fix that. But you want to fix it so badly; after all, that's what you do: fixing things. But Castiel might be the hurdle you just can't overcome.

The coffee's run through and you pour yourself a cup.

Castiel's phone is here on the counter. You had wanted to throw it away, but for some reason, you didn't. It pinged with messages sometimes, but you didn't read them. He had no contacts on his phone other than you and your friends, and these... these other people. It makes you sick just thinking about it. Was it your fault? Did you push him into that line of work, just because you were struggling with the rent? It couldn't have been, right? He should've talked to you. You could've found a different solution. If he'd just _come to you_. So, logically, all of this is his fault. He brought it upon himself and you have nothing to blame yourself for. You grab the handle of your mug a little tighter. Yes, that's a good enough lie to believe for the day.

You're tight-clipped at work today. Bobby's a bit angry at you for some reason, but you couldn't care. Doesn't he know you have to visit Castiel today? Silly you, of course he doesn't. Bobby has some clear thoughts on things. He'd tell you to leave that boy behind and move on with your life. And maybe he wouldn't be wrong, but you can't. You know that Castiel has nobody but you, and even that stands on dagger's edge. After they initially asked where Castiel was, they didn't ask again and you even fear they've all forgotten about him. Not even Garth or Charlie ever inquired about Castiel again. Sam was the only one, but only because it was him you complained to. You stop dead in your tracks.

What if Castiel overheard one – or more – of your phone conversations with Sam? The conversations where you complained about money running tight? What if those made him decide to work on the streets? Oh, god damn him, god damn him straight to hell. No, that's just not fair. He doesn't get to use your complaints to Sam against you, to make you the one to blame.

You stare down at the motor of the car. It's a bit like a brain, you suppose. If something's wrong here, the whole damn car won't start. And you'd need a mechanic to fix it properly, because let's face it – homemade jobs never held up well. You don't think a human brain is quite as easy to fix, however. And the damage tends to be a bigger problem with fewer ways to fix it. But a psychiatrist can fix Castiel right back up again, couldn't they? And then Castiel would be purring like a newborn kitty. If only it were so easy, you think. You wish you could just take a wrench and pull all the screws in Castiel's head tight again, and he'd stop being so tiny and everything would be okay.

You bite your lip. It's a dream, and it's a stupid one at that.

"If you don't wanna go, you shouldn't have to."

You groan and rub your eyes. Sam's been on you for fifteen goddamn minutes already. You just wanted to complain a bit, why does he always have to be such a smart-ass about everything? "I have to, Sammy. Or does that mean you wouldn't visit me?" You can hear Sam breathe out – deep and full of giving up. "That would be a completely different situation, Dean – I'd always want to visit you. I'm just saying it should be his family that _has_ to visit him, right? If you're uncomfortable with this, then you shouldn't have to go". Sam keeps talking, the big idiot. Family, you think. Yeah, family should visit you in times of need, and you _did_ ask Castiel about them – just if there was someone who needed to be contacted, and Castiel just smiled and said no. Now, you know Castiel _has_ some family somewhere – you remember him talking about them – but apparently they don't really speak to each other; or rather, they don't seem to speak much to Castiel. It would be a sad life you'd lead without Sam by your side.

"Gotta go, Sam", you say and just hang up the phone. In truth, you're already here. You sit in your car in the parking lot. It's an internal battle, going inside, each and every time. You know he's already waiting for you, because he's always waiting for you. He'd wait forever, and never mention it should you never come.

Sometimes, before he sees you, he reminds you of the tiny man in the big booth. It looks the same, and you hate it. He shouldn't be tiny, you think again. His shoulders are broad and he stands tall, but he doesn't. You want to yell at him in these moments, but screaming isn't going to help.

You take a deep breath and leave your car. You're uncomfortable immediately and want to turn around already. You clench your fists. You can't to do, though the Sam in your ear tells you that yes, you can. You don't have to go to Castiel. He won't even be mad at you. He'll forgive you, because he'll forgive you everything. You could kill him – hell, you almost did – and he'd still smile at you and that fucker would even apologise. You enter and the nurse at the reception lights up. "Dean!" he says excitedly, "We've been waiting for you!" Damn that asshole. You know you're fucking late. You just grunt in response and move right through to the visitor area. There he sits, in that chair, looking at the table in front of him. He doesn't seem to have a care in the world. You detest the gown though. It just keeps reminding you where you are. You stop in the doorway, as you often do. You know that he knows that you know that he knows that you're there. Still, he doesn't say anything. He'd never push you, and he'd spend his entire time just like this: you're not quite here. And if you'd just turn around and leave, he'd be alright with that, too. He'd keep sitting here until his time is up and simply return to his room in silence. You notice your hands are fidgeting. Damn, you're not a pansy, just get it over with. So, you enter the room like you're marching to war.

"Hey, Cas", you say after sitting down. He won't initiate conversation, he never has. He'd just stare at the table forever. "Hello, Dean", he replies but he doesn't look up. You quickly check him over – just to see, that he's fine, that he hasn't tried anything – which is stupid, of course, but still, that worry eats at you. "So, uh, Cas – anything interesting is happing around here?" What a stupid question. What's supposed to happen? Room five has an affair with room four-teen? The anorexia girl is into the dude with fifteen personalities? "Bell swapped her after-shave, I think. Also I think she has a new comb, now. Her beard is surprisingly soft these days." Castiel talked about Bell sometimes. Maybe she's got self-worth issues 'cause of the beard, you never really bothered. A lady with a beard isn't that bad, you think. Who knows, maybe Beard-dame and Cas would end up together after this. You've never seen the lady yourself, but hey, she couldn't be so bad. "And is everything alright with this Jonathan?" That's another dude Castiel talks about sometimes. Apparently, that dude and Cas share art therapy together and he threw a temper tantrum when someone wouldn't give him their tube of black. That guy was right to be here, you think. "The paintings are all still black." It must be incredibly depressing only painting black. You wonder why they allow him to do that. "D'you know what happened to him?" Castiel shakes his head. "No, I don't know. I haven't asked, but then again, he does not hide his arms." Oh. He tried to kill himself then. They fall into a silence. Castiel still hasn't looked up, so you turn to look at the table yourself. You don't know why you keep coming back. You know he enjoys your visits – his doctors told you so – but you're always at a loss when you're here. "I should –"

"There are bees in the gardens." You're startled and turn to look at him. His eyes shine when he looks at you. Somehow, he's not tiny now. He's not tall, not as big as he could be, but... it's so sudden, and it scares you. "They are full of pollen, Dean. One rested on my hand, and I named her Heather." He looks so delighted, and you bolt to the door. You don't know what to do with that Castiel. "You'll come back, won't you?" You don't answer him, because you never do, and you run for your car.

The next day, Lisa says you need to talk. Shit. You already know where this is going and it's not like you didn't see it coming. You just hope you can both be nice about it. So you tell her when you'll be off from work and she'll swing by. Maybe you can get break-up-sex out of it; that would be nice. You just want to keep your thoughts off Castiel, and the sudden light in his eyes. Sure, it's an incredible nice change, one you should be happy for, but it also scared you – because you didn't do that. You didn't put the light in his eyes and you hadn't even been there to witness the change. Castiel is getting better and you're doing nothing to help him. You should be fucking delighted, and yet here you are, freaking out. You almost miss the doorbell, too. Fuck.

"Hey, Dean", Lisa greets you as she enters. Damn, Lisa's probably the best girlfriend you ever had – perhaps even the best one you'll ever get – and you went and fucked it up. At least she doesn't look too mad. "You want a drink?" you ask, but she declines. Fair enough, then. Straight to business, it is. "Right, what d'you wanna talk about then?" You ask like a buffoon. She rolls her eyes and sits on a chair. Good thing you didn't break them all. "Dean, you know exactly why I'm here." You stay silent. You hate these types of conversations – _it's not you it's me._ What utter bullshit. It's always you.

"We want different things, Dean. I want to move forward, but you're not ready yet – and that's okay, everyone is different." She stands up and grabs your hands. "But right now, we're not really what we both need, you know? I still like you, Dean, I still care for you, but we're moving at a different pace." You nod, and she smiles. "I want to be happy", she says and of course, that's not with you. "And I want you to be happy, too." You look at her and she caresses your hand with her thumb. It's a comforting move, really. She gets on her tip-toes and presses a kiss onto your cheek. "Yeah", you say. "I get it." She shakes her head. "No, Dean, you don't really. You just say that, so I won't feel bad later. It's okay, though. I should feel bad, and you don't have to protect me from that. Not everything in the world is your fault, okay? You're wonderful, and you deserve so much more than you're giving yourself. I hope that one day, you'll realise that, too." With that, she leaves you. That was a weird break-up, you think. Nobody cried and nobody shouted. And most oddly, you don't feel like you've been abandoned.

You question what makes you so wonderful.

"Goddamn it, Sam, how could that happen?!" You scream at your brother. You don't want to scream at him, but hell, does he deserve this. "I don't know, Dean! I told him, and now he's not here! It's not like he left me a memo or anything!" You groan and hit your steering wheel again. You haven't been able to visit Castiel these past few weeks. You got into therapy. Nobody pushed you, and you still went – the image of a dead Castiel just wouldn't leave you – just so you could finally move on with your life. You decided you couldn't visit Castiel until you got a bit better, and also, that he couldn't live with you after he got released – so you sent Sam instead. "Just tell me what you said to him, word for word, man." Sam took a deep breath. "I told him that you still had to deal with what happened –", jeez, what a way to phrase that, "and so he can't live with you. And then I said; you can live with me! And he even said that he understood, too, so I have no fucking clue why he fucking disappeared!" You groan. And he didn't even a phone, because that thing still sat on your kitchen counter. So Charlie couldn't even try to track him down. "Don't worry, Dean – we'll find him." Oh yeah right – Sam the everlasting optimist.

You've been looking for about two months, now. You don't think he would leave town, but it could very well be a possibility. Sam said that he never used any of his cards – you're not sure you want to know how Sam figured that out. He seems to be quite the hacker himself.

You just wish you'd finally find that son of a bitch. You wanna hug him, punch him, anything – you just want to make sure that that light is still in his eyes. Hell, you're gonna buy him a bee farm if that keeps the light alive.

You're on your daily walk now. It's a stress-reducing exercise, and maybe you're gonna spot Castiel just casually walking by. It's always a possibility, after all. You hate the crossroads though. It takes forever for the light to turn green. There's some rumble from the people next to you and when you turn to look – oh god there he is.

Oh god he's just walking onto the fucking street.

Oh god there's a yellow truck coming.

Oh god he's going to die.

You're not gonna let him.

You're not gonna let him fucking die.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Not ever.

There are sounds before there is anything else. You can't make out the sounds, and you idly wonder why not. And, why can't you see? You try to make a sound, but you don't think anything's really coming out. The sounds don't get louder, and after a while, they quieten down. You don't realise it's because you've fallen asleep again.

Next time, it's some faint light. You think that maybe you opened your eyes. But since when was that so hard? The sounds are there, too, and they seem louder now. You wonder if that's because you opened your eyes or because you can hear them better. You still can't really make out a single source, though. A shadow moves over you, and your brain tries to tell you that that's a person. It doesn't look like a person though – more like a glorified blob of shadow. You don't understand anything, and thinking hurts your head, so you close your eyes again and will the noises to go away. They do, after you've fallen asleep.

The next time, you realise you're in a hospital room. But you don't remember why. Did something happen? Did a car crush you while you were under it? You grunt quietly, and there's movement to your right. "Dean?" You turn your head a bit and yes, there he is: little brother Sammy, who looks like he could use a lifetime full of sleep. Sam presses his hand. "Can you hear me?" You nod slowly. He starts to cry, and you don't want to see that. You need to get better right now, so that Sammy can stop crying right this instant. You tighten your resolve, but you just fall back asleep anyway.

It takes closer to six months before you're halfway up to speed. But, Sammy hasn't cried again, so that's a win. And there was another motivator, too, if you're really honest: Castiel was here, but he disappeared one night. Damn asshole probably thought this is his fault. So, you just gotta find him again to set his ass straight. You don't blame Sam for not looking for him – from what he said, it's been pretty touch-and-go with you, and really, you're just glad to have made it out alive. If the trucker hadn't hit the brakes when he did, both you and Castiel would be six feet under.

You close your eyes. You hold tight to the light in Castiel's eyes the last time you saw him. It can't be gone; you can't let it be gone. So you're gonna find him, and if it's not there, you're just gonna put it back, Winchester-style.

Alas, it takes close to another full year before you're declared as good to go. You and Sam gathered information though, and you even have sort of a starting point. One day two ladies showed up – one a relatively young girl, and the other one with a truly glorious beard. Leah and Bell, they introduced themselves. You didn't know about Leah before, but she seemed determined enough. You'd take any help you could get. "Your dress is pretty", you said to Bell once and she absolutely bone-crashing hugged you and gave you one of the wettest kisses of your life. You decided then and there to never compliment anyone ever again.

In a dirty alleyway, somewhere behind a really trashy dumpster, there are supposed to be two lost souls. Both discarded by the world, they found each other.

You stand before the alleyway with the really trashy dumpster now. Sam is just behind you. You can hear ragged breathing, a clear sign of someone being sick. Your heart hammers in your chest and you take a deep breath. You need to calm down. You start walking, Sam always close behind.

"Go away!" someone yells, but you don't stop until you can see behind the dumpster. There they are: a man and a child, forever in an embrace. The child holds a stick, ready to fight you off, but you barely see him. The man moved his head, pulling the kid closer. His eyes are clouded over, but maybe, just maybe he can see you.

"Look, Jack. There are stars in the sky today."


End file.
